


Resurrection

by StormStrider (MugenYumeDansu)



Series: Chronicles of Starling Merrit [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Situations, Dark Magic, Dark fiction, For Mature audiences only, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, People being brought back from the dead, Supernatural Creatures, The strength of friendship, dark themes, trigger warnings apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MugenYumeDansu/pseuds/StormStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starling Merrit has been brought back to life a year after being laid to rest by her long time best friend, and witchling Crow Marsons, by order of her older brother Connall in the wake of the deaths and disappearances of several slayers, including Crow's lover Jinx Lovelace.</p><p>With the help of a few fellow Slayers, Starling accepts her calling, if only for the fact that slayers are dying, and sets off to face this enemy.<br/>Only, things are not as they appear, and seeming allies may turn out to be the true enemy.</p><p>With no one left to trust, Starling must make a choice between loyalty and what is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection

The darkening sky was so full of clouds that not even a single ray of the afternoon sun could break through the cover. As the invisible sun moved across the sky, the heavens, pregnant with moisture, threatened to rip open and let loose the flood they held.

  
In a small cemetery in southern Missouri, next to a semi-fresh grave, sat a small woman. Her waist-length blonde curls dragged the ground as she worked, picking up graveyard soil and bits of the herbs that were laying in patterns around the grave.

  
A thick line of salt, broken only by large quartz crystal pillars that reached toward the storm-darkened sky, lay in a circle around the area she was working in, a smaller circle of different powders lay around the edge of the grave, a large spiral covered the center of the grave itself in ground sea salt with small bits of bones and unidentifiable burnt masses mixed with light grey ashes scattered through it. A dozen magical symbols were painted on the headstone in thick black ink, that showed no signs of drying, for all that it had been painted three hours earlier. The woman looked up from her work, her brows furrowing at the sky.

  
"Damn it. Rain wasn't supposed to come for another hour. Oh well, I put enough of everything down that it won't wash away easily." She paused, thinking. "Black powder, that's what I needed! And here's the powdered stones..."

  
She fumbled around in the large black bag at her side and pulled out two glass jars, one of finely ground sparkling multicolored powder and one of black powder. She sprinkled a bit of the multicolored powder along the spiral, before following with the black. She wiped her hands on the front of her bright green hoodie.  
She stood slowly and brushed a bit of soil off of her black pants before tossing the jars of powder back into the duffel and dumping the duffel outside of the thick salt barrier. She stepped carefully, so as not to disturb any of the herbs or stones that she had placed, and made her way to stand at the base of the grave, just inside the salt circle. The wind began to pick up, as if sensing that something was about to happen.

  
The woman reached down and picked up a jar of thick amber liquid that sat at her feet. She dipped her fingers into the thick liquid then brought them to her face. She began tracing a pattern across her brow then dragged two lines down her eyelids and cheeks, stopping at her chin. She redipped her fingers and touched the center of her lips. Setting aside the liquid, she knelt at the base of the grave, taking up a small silver blade. The rumble of thunder and following flash of lightening accompanied her voice as she began to chant.

  
"Invoco te mors ab amplexibus. Serge et in totum iterum aedifica tibi dedi et tolle quod iussimus. Sedibus ut rursus cum sanguine vitam. Surgere autem!" With the last verse she slid the silver blade across her palm, bringing a line of blood to the surface. She let the blood pool in her hand before holding it out over the grave. Her blood darkened the soil where it fell. The force in the air became heavy, nearly thick enough to see. After several seconds, the blonde clenched her hand closed and brought it to her chest, looking expectantly at the bloodied soil. Heartbeats passed and nothing happened. The blonde looked puzzled.

  
"But that should have worked right away. Why didn't it?" she mumbled to herself. A few seconds later the earth vibrated. A deep and beautiful sound echoed through the woman, as if a bell had just been tolled. As the sound of it died away the earth began to boil, taking the herbal mixture and blood down with it. After a moment the soil stopped turning, nothing but fresh earth visible. All signs of the ritual work had been wiped away by the turning of the ground, save the circle of crystals and salt, and the dark ink that painted the granite headstone.

  
The woman reached out, touching the nearly black soil. Her eyes slid closed and she let out a relieved sigh.  
"We're nearly there." For several long moments she rested there, waiting. As the minutes passed the force in the air began to grow again. She could feel that something was happening. With an imperceptible sound, the force finally reached its pinnacle. Her reverie was broken as the ground began to shake again, only this time it was stronger than before. Almost as strong as an earthquake.

  
She stepped out of the circle when the freshly turned earth of the grave began to boil upwards, bringing with it a large black casket. The shaking ground stilled as the casket rose and settled atop the earth. The woman smiled and stepped forward, popping the lid of the casket and revealing the form of another young woman. A woman dressed in a charcoal dress, with long dust-coated chestnut hair laying in spiral curls around her body, reaching down to her hips.  
The spell-caster picked up the the duffel and rummaged around until she found a small phial of dark liquid. She leaned over the prone figure in the coffin and, pulling the body's mouth open, tipped the phial slowly, pouring the contents into it. The woman who had performed the ritual stood back and waited. She didn't have long to wait.

  
The girl in the casket lay still for a pregnant moment and then convulsed, sending a cloud of dust and soil up into the air. Her milk white eyes flew open, her mouth parting on a gasp as she dragged air into her lungs. Her hands flailed around, looking for purchase on the satin lining of the casket, and finally found the edge. The young woman pulled herself up out of the box she'd been buried in and sat upright, leaning heavily on the edge of the coffin. Her hair fell in front of her face like a curtain.

  
She stayed there, her breathing labored and her eyes wide, adjusting to the light, or lack there-of, and becoming accustomed to being alive again. Finally, color began to flood back to her eyes turning them a rich blue, which then lifted and lit upon the woman who'd resurrected her. A dark smirk crossed her face.

"What ever happened to, 'I'm not a necromancer, I don't mess with the dead,' Crow?" her voice cracked with disuse.

The blonde, Crow, smiled at her. "Well, alot's changed since you died, Starling."

"I ain't been dead that long have I?" Starling gave Crow a veiled glance. A dark look crossed Crow's eyes.

"A lot can change in a year, Starling. C'mon, let's get you out of that coffin and those dreary clothes and into something more you," with those words she moved forward to help her friend out of the casket.

Once on her feet, Starling needed little help to stand; she was quickly gaining her strength back, as well as her color. She'd gone from gray to her original pale-pink complexion in just a few minutes. All of this was thanks to the liquid Crow had poured down her throat.

"Ugh, death tastes like ass..." Starling said, swalowing forcefully.

"Actually that would be the phoenix blood." Crow commented. "Thought you didn't mess with that dark shit?" Starling slanted a look of disapproval at Crow.

"Look, it was the only way to bring your body back to working order, otherwise you'd be a half rotten zombie." Crow helped Starling over to the black duffel, out of which she pulled a pink tanktop, a pair of black cargos, a pair of fluffy white socks, and a pair of combat boots. She handed the items to her friend, who'd already stripped off of the gray funeral dress and was busy ripping the dusty underclothes that had been put on her off. Starling slid into the tank and cargos, and was pulling on the socks when she finally thought to ask.

"So, why did you bring me back Crow? Tell me that there was a good reason," Starling finished with the socks and reached for the boots next.  
Crow, who had begun to gather up the quartz pillars planted in the ground, looked sad for a few seconds.

"I brought you back for a damn good reason. I'll brief you in the car. We can't talk in the open. Too many ears to the ground," Crow zipped the duffel and stood up, slinging it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, okay; I need a shower anyway," Starling motioned for Crow to lead the way, and together they started down the path toward the old pick-up parked at the edge of the cemetery.


End file.
